Tuesday, January 19, 2010

Behind horn-rimmed glasseswith a Camel Light between lipsstained the same redas her cropped duster of a bobAbsolutely soullessand knowing of it,she arches her browsas the non-marginal walk by. . .muttering under heavy breath:"fuckin' posers."Because she still has to watch out for themShe doesn't know that she looks just likeSally Jesse Raphaeland her friends are not going to be the onesto tell her. They'll let her mother."Dear, those glasses look so. . . severeon you."Under her gravel tracked breathshe'll say: "fuck off, mom."Then take a fatal drag fogging up the windows coveringher dull mud brown eyes